A Song of Iron and Ice
by CrowKrowCrow
Summary: A different answer can change everything. Convinced into attacking the Lannisters instead of the North Balon leads the ironborn to raid and conquer in the Westerlands, without a betrayal and an attack at his home Robb is left with his army whole and free to focus on his war for independence. Aegon's throne is close to crumbling and the age of the kings of Westeros comes again.
1. Krakens, Old and New

****One thing: Theon left as an envoy two months later than cannon, meaning he was at the Battle of Oxcross, during which he killed Lord Roland Crakehall while the same was looking for his horse during the ambush. This is necessary to have one more reason for a bit tougher Theon and more to show to the harshness that's Balon Greyjoy****

 **** The Battle of Oxcross, is in the books a battle fought at (surprise!) Oxcross where Robb ambushed and defeated the forming new Westerland army led by Stafford Lannister.**

 **Robb and the North will be shown along with some Kingslanding but it's Theon/ironborn centric. Doran, Arianne and Dorne will only appear later on, around chapters 6 to 10 not sure myself.**

 ****Theon Greyjoy****

A small schooner moved along the Sunset Sea. Having left Kanet, a minor coastal town at the border of the Riverlands with the Westerlands, earlier the week the merchant ship was now arriving at it's destination, the bleak collection of metal and rocks that were the Iron Islands already noticeable at the distance.

A black haired blue-eyed young man wearing a long sleeved black coat stood on the prow of the ship. Theon Greyjoy watched attentively as he finally arrived home.

"Home" he said to himself fidgeting with his coat, made of seal skin and lined with wolf fur. He was nervous, hell he hasn't been this nervous since he was 9, watching the royal forces about to breach the main gate of Pyke from his window. And since that same day he hasn't set foot in his birthplace. He wasn't sure if he could call Pyke his home anymore, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

He could remember little of the place, and from this little even less were good memories. He remembered his brothers, Rodrik and Maron, 10 and 8 years older respectively, who he followed around like a puppy when he was younger and who used every chance to bully or mock him. From the beatings that they called training to almost drowning when they took him to "learn how to swim", he only survived that day because Asha jumped in the water as his brothers were too busy laughing to save him. Apparently believing when your brothers tell you Greyjoys are sons of the sea and thus naturally knew how to swim and jumping from their boat into the harsh waters of Pyke's coast when you're six is hilarious.

He remembered his father, a stern face with cold eyes almost scanning for something to be disappointed by. He cared for family in his own ways, he beat young Theon once or twice to discipline and harden the boy after a prank or too many complaints but nothing much. The third son had only seen him truly mad when Asha brought him home after the "swimming" incident, and the anger thankfully wasn't directed at him.

But the last time he saw the man his rebellion had failed, his castle had been broken and his older sons were killed, he looked broken and Theon didn't know what to expect from him.

He also remembered his uncles, but excluding Victarion's apathetic if a bit encouraging face as he taught a younger Theon how handle an ax the less he said the better.

His only good memories were what he remembered of his mother, skittish and always worrying, but beautiful, kind and loving. And even what little came to mind of Asha, a pudgy face with eyes full of mischief and adventure that saved him more than once from his brothers.

Though he tried to find some reassurance in the memories it never came, most of the people in them were either dead, banished or it's been so long and they all been through so much it no longer mattered.

While if he thought of the North... He could remember Eddard Stark almost unmoving face but encouraging and proud eyes and a tiny smile as he hit the bullseye for the first time. Teasing and sparring with Jon Snow, the bastard boy always sullen and easy to tease but the greatest talent with a blade he had ever seen, not that he would tell him that. He remembered trying to teach eager and curious Bran how to wield a bow even though the boy was terrible at it. Even beautiful Sansa's forced frown as she tried very hard to hide the giggles escaping from his crass jokes that Catelyn would never approve. And he couldn't forget the night lessons with witty and rebellious Arya who bugged him into teaching her how to shoot a bow despite Catelyn prohibiting or the one time he was drunk and the wolfling conviced him to let her try her first cup of ale and the two ended up drunk and laughing about nothing laying in hay at Winterfell's stables.

But most of all he remembered his and Robb's adventures. From going drinking in Wintertown, hunting in the Wolf's Wood to the time they both fought Greatjon when the Umber was in Winterfell, to when he convinced the way too uptight lordling to ride all the way to White Harbor being prohibited from visiting it during the trip they took to meet Lord Manderly's court or when said lordling went running, half naked and red faced the one time Theon finally convinced him to go to a brothel. He even remembered fondly he various lessons with Maester Luwin that he hated but they took together. Those felt like actual family memories.

The ship was closer now, going from seeing to smelling and hearing distance as Theon could now smell the dead fish and smelting iron common to Lordsport, the rather strong scent taking him out of his remembrance.

Closer to the city he could see the various ships surrounding the port, reaving longships, fishing ships and merchant ships as far as the eye could see. He could hear the noise of the day to day of the city, with the bellows of sailors being the loudest as they approached the port. He gave a smirk to himself to calm his nerves and turned from the prow.

"Well captain, it seems our lovely trip is coming to an end" he said while turning, smirk still in place.

The man he was speaking to was the captain of the schooner, a small but robust fellow with a crooked nose and brown hair that he didn't bother learning the name. The riverlander had been ordered by Robb to bring Theon with him and had hated the order since day two, when he found his daughter sleeping in the Greyjoy's bed when he came to talk with the noble. Same daughter that had just yesterday been rejected by said Greyjoy when she tried to be anything, even his Salt Wife. The captain only nodded to the ironborn joking affirmation.

Theon passed the captain and moved to the middle of the deck, the ship was almost docking with Lordsport's vast harbor and he wanted to be the first out as he leaned on the port side of the ship. After a few minutes of waiting he jumped to the port's walkway and moved away from the ship.

He didn't expect a great welcome, he had studied what he could find of the ironborn with maester Luwin and they were never ones for ceremony, and he kind of remembered some of his father's lessons. "If it's your overlord, someone you personally respect or that you don't want walking around your land, meet them by the shore. If it's neither, they can find the damn way themselves." Still it hurt to arrive to a empty beach, well empty of other Greyjoys at least as the port was filled with fishermen, merchants and reavers.

Too many reavers, he thought as he looked around. He noticed there were more ships than he had realized around the port, and many of the ships he thought were merchants ships were modified, likely merchant vessels captured overseas and used for reaving. It wasn't normal. Ironborn reavers were only so concentrated in one place when they preparing for either war or a Great Reaving, and with the state of the greenlands now wasn't the time for a Great Reaving it was time for war. Nothing he could do about it from here though.

Theon adjusted his coat, and moved along the cobblestone road, taking in the now stronger mix of scents from dead fish and smelting iron. He stopped in front of a haggard thin old man removing the guts from fishes in basket with a mangy horse by his side.

"How much for the horse?" He asked the older man. It was hardly a mount worthy of the heir to the Iron Islands, but he refused to walk the three days walk to Pyke and with the gold on him he doubted he could afford a better one.

The old man looked him up and down for but a second and grunted a "not selling it" before turning his attention back to the basket.

More anxious than he's been since he was dragged from Pyke to Winterfell Theon wasn't exactly in a bartering and friendly mood.

"Turn around, get up and properly greet and negotiate with a Greyjoy when in his own damn island" he said with a sword to the side of the old man's throat. "I can pay the gold or the iron price, you should be praying I don't chose the later."

The old man got up slowly, his eyes darting to the sword but with no fear in them, you don't survive to get old in the Iron Islands with a fear of things like blades to the neck.

No one in the harbor seemed to pay much mind to the confrontation, used to such "disagreements".

Thankfully, before things could escalate a voice cut through the tension.

"No need for that milord, I'll take you to Pyke."

Theon turned around to be greeted with the most lovely sight he had since Ros left the North, for sitting atop a strong brown mare was a vision of beauty. With a narrow delicate jaw, a moderate firm burst and legs, man those legs, while he couldn't see her ass as she stood turned to him from the legs alone he would guess it's great. And something about that mischievous twinkle in her eyes made Big Theon crazy. Crazy enough not to notice that he hadn't told her or the old man where he was going.

A smirk covered Theon's previously dour face.

"Well then, it seems you own this fine lady your life or your horse my friend!" He said while backing away from the old man, but without holstering his sword or letting him out of sight. He would be disappointed if the fisherman didn't have at least a dagger hidden somewhere.

"Hello there! I see at least someone knows how to greet the Prince of these islands!" He exclaimed coming close to the beauty.

"Oh, a Prince you say?" She exclaimed, her tone was a bit mocking but discrete enough he couldn't be sure.

"So I say, the last son and heir of Balon Greyjoy returning home from the war in the greenlands!" He continued, as he lifted himself into the saddle to sit behind her in the to impress her much like he did the minor noble ladies or castle servants in Winterfell. She was dressed far to nicely to be smallfolk.

"Good luck that I met you then, my prince." She said sensually, half turning in the saddle, enough he could look into her eyes and feel her breath against his lips with her head resting on his left shoulder. Theon had to fight back a shudder as he kept a firm gaze on her eyes. Before she turning and kicked the horse into a fast gallop.

And so the trip went, Theon would tell exaggerated version of his battles and the "lady" listened, attentively and jokingly, always teasing, he tried more than once to get her name but was always met with changes of subject or some joke or the other.

After some proper chatting he decided to make his moves, one of his hands no longer holding the handle but slowly traveling through her sides, first down her arms, then up and down her sides, seeing no resistance, he started slowly ghosting his fingers through her thighs before finally reachi-

"We're here milord." "Hã?"

Was all could say before she left the saddle, he following the movement mostly by instinct.

"Here we are, the castle of Pyke." She said in what had already become a familiar cocky tone.

The beautiful and sassy woman had taken his mind off from the happenings of today. But now, under the looming shadow of the huge almost ruined castle that was post Rebellion Pyke he had a hard time breathing.

He stood in a large road, the largest in the Islands, which divided in two a large village that sat in front of the open gates of the castle and lead directly to Lordsport.

He turned to find her, finally get her name so he could get to "know" her better later only to find himself alone in the road besides the occasional smallfolk from the village passing by.

Disappointed and with nothing to distract himself, he took a large breath and turned to enter the large gates.

If he wasn't so nervous he would've realized that in the distance, behind the stone walls of Pyke there were even more ships than at Lordsport and better ships too, not the mismatched fleet of House Botley of Lordsport but the Iron Fleet, the crown jewel of the Iron Islands, 150 longships all armed with ballistas and crewed by armored and experienced raiders.

Theon clenched and unclenched his right hand as he walked through a large stone hallway that he, if trying enough, could remember from childhood.

There was no arguing with guards to enter the castle or having to ask servants for directions. He was obviously expected as the guards were informed the last Greyjoy son was coming home and given directions to repass about where the Lord Reaper was likely to be. No reason to believe the unknown young man who had the right age, hair and eye colors and was dressed as a noble wasn't the expected son.

After receiving his directions he continued along the castle, none of the servants or guards stopping to give more than a quick look at the supposed heir. Certainly not the warm reception he dreamed about.

After some minutes following a more helpful servant he arrived at a large but simple oak door, the doors to his father's office. A more private place than the throne room, perfect for the family reunion.

Gathering his wits Theon opened the door. The office was well lit, with candles in its four pillars alongside an large fireplace farthest from the door. In the middle of the room sat an a large orkwood table with four large seats by it, two were occupied.

Theon breath caught in his throat as one of the seated men turned at the sound of the door opening. He could barely recognize the man, his head mostly bald now, with a circle of dark grey hair at the sides growing uncontrolled as they went down to his middle back and blue eyes hard and cold but unfocused. His father stared at him.

Soon after the second man turned and Theon quickly recognized him as his uncle Victarion, much less changed the man remained as large and stoic as ever he looked passively as his nephew walked into the room.

After seeing who it was by the door Balon Greyjoy remained stone cold, he didn't move from his seat and continued to look Theon in eye until the younger ironborn stopped in the middle of room.

"Father" Theon said with a voice steadier than he felt "I have returned."

Balon stood up slowly before answering "The Stark took a boy from me, what has come back?"

"A man, your son and heir!" Theon exclaimed the cold eyes of his father and uncle on him.

"Is that so? Tell me, have payed the iron price yet?" Said Balon.

Theon froze for but half a second but he could see both man had noticed. "No, I haven't." He knew that would come up but he still froze.

"Then you are no man yet, boy!" Bellowed the old kraken as he moved to closer to Theon staring his estranged son.

"Those clothes- " he started, moving his hand to hold Theon's collar, the son's hand held his wrists before he could do so. Theon froze for a second before remembering another of his father's own lessons.

"When in doubt, show strength. And never back down after you've started a fight, remember you're a Greyjoy."

He remembered and recomposed himself in a few seconds as Balon and Victarion both payed close attention to the younger Greyjoy.

"I shot arrows at the King's men when I was 9 in a already lost battle that you started, I killed wildlings while hunting in a frozen forest when I was 12 and I have been fighting in actual war for the last 6 months while you sat in your broken castle!" Theon said, he tried very hard to keep his voice hard but even and mostly succeeded. "I am a man."

There was long, tense silence as father and son stared off.

"Hm, there may be some iron in you after all." Balon finally said, moving away from Theon and back towards the table. Stopping just before where he was sat, where he turned back to Theon who was a bit lost in what to do or feel.

"So, why are you here?" The old kraken said.

Theon, still surprised took a bit to answer. Taking a large breath before doing so, his reception was already not l the warmest and happiest and he was sure it wouldn't get better now.

"I've come with a proposal from Robb Stark." He said with a voice finally as steady as he wanted.

He didn't know if it was what meager respect he got from his previous actions that made his father not instantly snap at him but he could see the man's eyes narrow as he thought for a few seconds. The older man finally opened his mouth to answer, before he could do so the oak door slammed open.

Theon quickly turned to the doors to see who would enter the Lord Reaper's office so abruptly and at such occasion only to be surprised as the woman that brought him here sauntered to the middle of the room, stopping besides him. If that wasn't enough Balon's short nod and muttering "Asha" of recognition left him slack-jawed as he realized the woman he spent the better part of the three hour trip trying to bang happen to be his sister.

"Father! And dear baby brother, how you've grown." Her smirk was as mischievous as when they met in Lordsport if not more, and he was now ashamed to admit that it had the same affect on him as before. "So, what did I miss?"

"Your _brother_ was about to tell me why the Stark child sent him here like his messenger boy." Balon cold voice replied to her joking question.

Theon breath caught in his throat, he had thought of a thousand ways to petition his father for Robb but now as he actually had to ask the bitter, harsh old man that he still wanted to impress despite not wanting to want to he just couldn't form the words. So there he stayed, for almost half a minute without knowing what to say before blurting.

"The proposal is for an alliance in a war against the Iron Throne for the independence of the Kingdom of the North and the Trident and the Kingdom of the Iron Islands." He said in a as formal and strong a voice as he could. Though from how Balon's eyes narrowed more he guessed it still wasn't enough.

"You want me to ally with greenlanders for my crown?! You ask me to bow and negotiate with that green child?! The son of a man who lead the forces that broke through this castle and took my sons from me!" Balon roared, whatever was keeping his anger in check no longer able as his cold eyes lit up with rage as he quickly walked close to Theon looming over the teenager frame, who was actually only bit smaller but at the moment was feeling much more so.

"I will not shake hands with a greenlander! I will pay the iron price for my crown, the ironborn shall reave both the North and the South alike!" The older man continued, no longer roaring but still with a hard voice. "What is left is for you to chose and for me to see if you have iron or ice in your veins, boy."

There was a silence as Balon's raging narrowed eyes looked into Theon's wide surprised ones. Victarion and Asha, almost forgotten by the two, stayed quiet and still as the tension rose in the office.

A million thoughts went through Theon's head, most passing so fast he didn't even know what they were.

"Fuck the Starks." Theon did give in "This is about us, not them." Just not up.

"This is the best opportunity the ironborn had in the last three hundred damn years, it was never dragons or the Targaryens that kept us at bay but the Iron Throne itself! We thrived in the warring days of the divided kingdoms of Westeros. When we could attack the individual kingdoms with our unmatched navy, when we could reave and raid unrestrained! Now Robb Stark declares independence with two of the eight Kingdoms and rips the greenlands in half!" He half knew half didn't what he was talking about, he was a shit study but he did try at the Iron Islands, and he did try to see if and how his father's war could've been won. Maester Luwin mandatory 3 hours alone free study at the keeps library every 4 days left quite some time time for it.

"Dorne won't fight for a Lannister or Baratheon king but the Reach will. And against the Reach and whatever King sits on the damn iron chair he will still only have the two poorest kingdoms, one ravished by the Westerlanders and the other will soon face a harsh winter after this long summer. Let him fight his war and divide the greenlands further. Burn the Westerlands not only because it will weaken the Lannisters prolonging the war and helping destroy the unity of the greenlands but also because with what is left of its main army away and its second host broken they are weak and perfect for reaving.

The richest of the kingdoms by far is almost undefended, take the bountiful and weakened Westerland coast and its riches instead of the frozen and barren North. It's the best target, both as a reaver and as a king." He finished, voice strong and eyes hard, he had panicked a bit mid speech but hid well with his tension and anger at the entire damn situation.

He said what he had to and he showed strength, for the few minutes he got to know his father again he saw the bitter man would only respect anyone if they showed strength. He might have went overboard with how nervous and angry he was but regretting wouldn't really help him now.

His father didn't see to know what to do for more than a whole minute as he continued to stare at him, the eyes remained narrow and harsh but Theon saw the surprise in them before he could hide it.

"You do have iron in you." His father finally said, walking towards him. Theon remained still, taking all he had just to not avoid his eyes as his father closed in, stopping closer than an arms reach. Only to back hand him in face.

Theon fell to the ground in a muffled thud. Old or not his father hit hard, he thought to himself tasting the blood in mouth from where one his father's rings and his own teeth ripped the flesh. He got up quickly though.

"But don't think to lecture me in our ways." He continued "You will have your answer by the morning, show him to his room." He finished, talking with Asha who immediately went to the door.

He hesitated before following, he wanted to argue, to defend his idea some more. His father's didn't seem to be suggesting though and he didn't seem to take disobedience well, so hoping this was the best course to help convince the man as he followed after his sister out if the room.

Another shitty situation as no matter how much he tried he just couldn't keep his eyes from her ass, the way she was swaying just wasn't fair. And from how she smirked when she caught him looking he was sure it was on purpose too and that just made it worse.

An agonizingly long walk later and he was in what he actually remembered to be his old room, he quickly said some awkward goodbye to his sister, making some promise about seeing their mother later and closed the door.

Collapsing in his bed, he thought to himself how he should go get an ironborn woman to relax a little and get to know his homeland better but for the first time in his young life he was too worried to be in the mood.

Without his sister to distract him and too tired to distract himself he stayed there trying to think about what he could do if his father said no.

 ****Balon Greyjoy****

After his son left the room Balon stayed unmoving. He had imagined many ways his third son could've turned, this one was... good. But he saw what almost seemed to be admiration towards Robb Stark, the boy got soft in the greenlands.

But not stupid, while he would need to toughen up to be a worth Iron King the boy did show strength and he had some intelligence, he would watch and see.

"Get the maps of the North, the Riverlands, the Westerlands and the Reach." He said to his brother, finally moving from the middle of the room.

During the six months the war has been happening he made plans to attack all these kingdoms, like his son said a war like this was a unique opportunity, he had thought to attack the weaker North, if they managed to take and fortify Moat Cailin they could cut the region from the rest of the greenlands then it would be a matter of taking or raiding it's coastal keeps in villages until winter came, winter would kill most resistance in the conquered regions and the sudden lack of coastal supplies and ironborn raiding parties would snuff most resistance inside as well. No one in Westeros would dare fight the Iron Fleet at sea or invade the North during Winter, green landers are cowardly like that.

But his son might be right, if the boy was truthful in his letters from before coming to the Islands, Tywin had taken a host of between 65 to 75 thousand men to the Riverlands, most of which broke or went with him to the Crownlands to fight Stannis. From retreating soldiers and some fresh ones a new host was raised at Oxcross and broken in the same place as Robb Stark manages an easy victory ambushing the camped army with 22 thousand men against 35 thousand on the Lannister side.

Soon after Robbs army marched through the Westerlands taking or besieging keeps as he went, most of the interior Westerlands were busy with the Young Wolf. The Westerlands haven't been this vulnerable even during the days of the Reyne rebellion, the richest land of Westeros and home to a family he despised and that was holding the Iron Throne together.

Victarion needed no more as he moved from his seat towards one of the many cabinets opposite to the windows on the room. It held various large scrolls, he took three of the biggest and unfurled them on the table.

Balon leaned on the table watching the maps, detailed maps with the details of the respective kingdoms, every Lord Reaper in Iron Islands had maps like this from all over the world. A good knowledge of the terrain helps a lot during raids.

"What do you think?" He finally said, without turning from the map. His brother might not say much or not be a great thinker but he trusted him more than any and the man knew more about reaving than anyone else besides, maybe, their younger, insane, brother. He knew none better than to help him plan his attack,except maybe The Reader, if his brother-in-law would just grow a spine.

"Your boy is right." Always a man of little words Victarion saw no need to explain more, he knew his brother understood the whys of his answer. "But the captains have been gathered for two months already, everyone is here and everyone is restless."

Balon understood what that meant, whatever he was going to do it needed to be done fast. Ironborn lived at sea, reavers didn't remain in the same place for long, no matter who was ordering.

Tywin also led the forces at Pyke and he had set Gregor Clegane loose on Pyke and Great Wyk, Lannister forces were responsible for most civilian deaths during his rebellion. The Lannisters owed him a debt, and he intended to take it by iron price.

"Get the map of Lannisport as well." He said, his decision made.

 **Note:** Hello, I had this story in my mind from some time and decided to write it. Theon will a bit smarter and tougher he will still be impulsive (excluding this chapter because I really needed to use a argument to get the ball rolling) and thus short sighted but here instead of chickening out and first being in a mix of doubt/guilt wrecked and unsure of his future now he will have a chance to grow into an actual ironborn prince.

I wrote this in three days with weeks apart and did not check much of my sentencing or grammar so I'd appreciate constructive criticism.


	2. The Kraken's home, the Wolf's war

****Theon Greyjoy****

 **One week later**

This last week didn't go as he expected at all. While deep down he knew it was a childish notion, he was disappointed there was no feast for him. If not that he hoped for at least a family gathering, as he knew there would be for Robb if he ever left for more than but a month.

Instead he went two days without seeing another Greyjoy, during which he squirmed without knowing his father's decision. When he finally saw one it was his uncle Victarion not his father, though to Theon's overwhelming relief said uncle brought good news. Informing him that yes the ironborn would attack the Westerlands not the North. Victarion came to deliver the news at the sun's rising, saying with a passive voice and in the same breath as to tell hom to wake up and inform he was taking him to train.

Training which was actually his father evaluating his strength, or so he would guess from how the old man stood in the castle passageways, watching the spar from above like a hawk.

Theon was very confident in his skills, be with sword or ax. He was no Jaime Lannister but he was more talented than most with both and trained a lot with them.

He still lost of course. His uncle was undoubtedly the best warrior in the Iron Islands, the man was experienced and strong as an ox, besides he was surprisingly fast and skillful with his ax from how he disarmed Theon to end the spar.

He didn't meet Tywin's golden son in battle at the Trident but sparred with the Lannister while he was in Winterfell and he knew where he stood, he was a good warrior, but not a great one. As much as he hated to admit, Jaime was a great one. And as he was much prouder to say, his uncle was one as well.

Still, his father seemed pleased though his face remained stoic, Theon imagined he would know if his father was disappointed. Theon hoped to get to his uncle's level of ability with an ax some day, but it wouldn't be today.

After that he was left alone and without news, his father apparently finishing planning with Victarion. At first he tried to get in the planning, to know what it was about but it wasn't very successful so he decided to do some useful instead, well necessary really. He went to see his mother.

He thought about getting Asha to come with him, but his sister seemed busy readying her boats and he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with both meeting his mother after so many years and handling his superior, mischievous and annoyingly hot sister in the same afternoon.

He would come to regret not bringing his sister.

It wasn't an experience he enjoyed. Hells, even with all the disappointment he faced so far, it was undoubtedly the worse thing he's been through since back in Pyke. His kind, worrying mother went insane, completely raving mad insane. At first she thought he was Maron and wouldn't stop talking about how she missed me and how now that he's back they would build toy wooden boats, as he had they used to when his brother was a little child. Then she recognized he was himself but thought he was still a child and started scolding him about being too young to cross the wooden and rope bridges that connected the keeps of Pyke. He tried time and time again to bring her to the now with no success, he left then, not able stand in the room.

He tried again the day after, he had to try. She did recognize him at once this time, but also as a kid and apparently on the day he was taken. She clutched his biceps, thin, frail finger holding him with surprising strength as long unkempt nails bit into his arms flesh.

This he could take it, but then she started rambling about him being her last baby and wailing loudly about his dead brothers, holding him desperately as if he would disappear the moment she let go.

He left again that moment and hadn't returned since, he broke from her hold and ran like coward from the room with her broken wails following him. He felt more than a little guilty, but he had a war and an all around estranged family, he just wasn't strong enough to deal with his mother's insanity too right now.

So he went to do another necessary thing.

He went to see his uncle Aeron Greyjoy, a drunk, loud and joking man who after drowning during his father's rebellion turned into an image of zeal. Aeron Damphair, the serious and diligent leader of the Drowned Men, the men of faith from the Iron Islands.

Aeron lived outside of Pyke, living in a large temple built into an cave by the rock coast of Pyke, he led the expansion himself and it finished recently he heard. Previously it was a much smaller temple also built into the cliff's cave by the Drowned Men of Pyke to house their order some one thousand or so years ago.

The way to said temple was precarious to say the least, a rocky path made along the coast, with the violent seas of Pyke beneath. The path was accessible by a wooden ladder near the end of the village by the foot of the castle of Pyke.

It was precarious but wasn't that dangerous, the path wide enough for two people to walk comfortably side by side but with no protection to the sides of course. After all it was a place for believers and if you fell and drowned it was the Drowned God calling you to his Hall, there was nothing to fear.

He soon reached the cave at the end of the narrow path, there were no doors separating it from the outside and so the entrance was covered in sea water from the waves crashing against the cliff the temple rested on. The floor was smoothed from the black oily rock the cave was made of while the sides and ceiling were left rough as they originally were.

From the cave entrance a long, wide corridor went inwards, torches lighting it all the way, along with various smaller corridors accessible from it. The walls of the main corridor seemed to be carved with various runes that Theon had no idea what were supposed to mean.

Theon asked one of the Drowned Men, or apprentice or even servant he wasn't really sure, where he could find his uncle, the Damphair. The man wore wet robes made of common rags and had some seaweed in his hair.

He said to follow and turned to the main corridor walking in a moderate place, Theon was a bit uneasy following him as he didn't seem to be all there while he answered. But if the man was a freak or not he followed him as he turned into one of the many adjacent corridors and went deeper into the cave system, the walls were also covered in runes but ones that looked incomplete, which was soon proven as he saw other robe wearing Drowned Men along the walls carving more of them.

They walked a long slope downwards until arriving at an circular room carved deep in the rocky coast, an small opening to the outside, just large enough for the common longship to pass through, let the ocean into the room making a harbor with a small port built into the incredibly large pool in middle turning the room into an half circle of rock passageways with an pool of salt water and a port in the middle. As he finished taking all of this he noticed the man in front of the wooden stairs into the port.

A tall man with long and full black hair and beard, both wet and layered with seaweed. The man's eyes locked with Theon the moment the teen entered the room, hazy blue eyes that Theon just couldn't make sense of it.

Avoiding the man's gaze he noticed there were other people in the cave. Other Drowned Men were spread around room, a few in the ports, working on boats or nets and sails and others were fishing, some seemed to be carving the walls by the rocky way. But no one that seemed important.

Not like his uncle at least, the man used his fame as a Greyjoy and survivor of a Drowning after he fell to the sea during his brother's rebellion to take leadership of the Drowned Men all over the islands. The Drowned Men were normally separated, every island having their Drowned Men and its leader. Aeron was the first since the days of the Hoare to unite the ironborn's men of faith into one body.

He walked towards the man, his guide having stood at the edge of the room and leaving the moment Theon walked pass him. Aeron gaze followed him as the teen stopped in front of his uncle.

"Uncle Aeron, as you likely know I've returned" Theon said in a friendly voice "I've come now to ask your blessing as the closest to the One Beneath the Waves."

His uncle was still for a while, his face made of stone as he kept his gaze on Theon for two full minutes.

"I know. Come with me." he said, turning to the wooden stair into the port.

"BROTHERS! A NEW DROWNING!" He bellowed the moment he turned.

Theon quickly followed his uncle down to the port built into the rocky slope, while following he saw as the other men of faith stopped their actions at the same moment his uncle had bellowed and started converging around the port too.

Various Drowned Men watched from all the wooden walkways built around the harbor as Theon reached the end of the port with his uncle, at an part where some sand by the rocks allowed one to stand with water only to the waist.

They watched as he removed his coat and shoes and entered the water followed by his uncle, who didn't need to remove his pure sealskin coat and didn't wear shoes to begin with. Watched as his uncle took sea water into a common wooden bowl poured it over his face, starting the holy ritual.

"He Who Feasts Beneath the Waves, accept this child of iron and salt into your realm, bless him with victory, bless him with strong arms and great cunning, bless him with good winds and calm seas, and should he ever suffer the shame of defeat let him rise again. For what is dead may never die..."

"BUT RISES AGAIN HARDER AND STRONGER!" Theon replied with all the Drowned Men, that same moment Aeron's hand shot out, taking a hold of the young man's forehead and forcing him under water.

Theon resisted for a moment before relaxing, this is how it was supposed to go, he thought to himself. Before actually feeling the lack of air, upon which he instinctively fought and tried to forced his way up to breath with animalistic ferocity, but Aeron firm hand kept him under.

Theon felt his limbs grow weaker, he felt as the water entered his lungs and stomach and he became incapable of fighting anymore.

Then he felt another thing, he didn't know what it was, as if an cold hand held him and pulled him very hard downwards. Then feelings of euphoria, rage, release, content and fear washed over him all at the same time. He managed to open his eyes and look downwards, and though the salt water blurred his vision he could clearly see an shadow on the water. A shadow despite the lack of any visible eye he somehow knew, just _knew_ was looking at him.

 _"_ **T** _h_ **e** _o_ **n** _"_

And his uncle pulled him up, a hand going to Theon's chest in a palming movement, helping force the sea water from his stomach and lungs before letting the young man go. Theon stayed on his hands and knees vomiting the water back into the sea for moment, trying to recompose himself after whatever that was. Probably an hallucination because of either lack of oxygen or the salt water, maybe both. I mean he didn't care much for gods but believed in the Drowned God, he thought so at least, but he didn't know what that was and had no wish to find out.

Some ten minutes after, when he got himself together he turned to his uncle, who seemed to be looking at him now, by that he meant that it wasn't just the hazy look from before but actually looking at him now, eyes now hard and surprised were focused solely on him. That wasn't helping.

"Well... Thank you uncle, for presiding over such an occasion for me yourself." He said, unable to keep the uneasy out of his voice but the harsh sounds from his hurt lungs from almost drowning covered it up. "I'm truly ironborn once again now."

"I need to go now, father's plans are soon to be revealed and I need to be ready, until a later time uncle." He said already walking towards the exit, his uncle face remaining unchanged.

"May the God be with, nephew" His uncle finally said, eyes still fixed on Theon.

"With you as well uncle" Theon said as he bailed out of there as fast as he could without being obvious that he was running.

 **Two weeks later**

Theon moved through the harbor, bumping and pushing the many other reavers walking around. It was finally time to set sail and he, like almost everyone it seemed, couldn't wait for it.

His father had shared his plans with the Lords of Iron Island and its prominent admirals, they were to sail together with the full strength of the Islands, 27 thousand reavers strong, and take Lannisport. After properly raiding and burning the city and keep they would divide themselves, while avoiding the currently strongest lordship of the Westerlands that was Kayce and taking the coastal keeps such as Castemere, Fair Isle and the Crag.

Theon approached an arm of the harbor where eight ships stood, his ships. His father had only given him four of them, he didn't know but suspected the number was a intended slight since most Greyjoy sons have their first reaving leading a group of five longships.

Still, an important part of the attack on Lannisport was to paint the hulls and sails of a good amount of the ships all in a very dark blue to camouflage better with the ocean at night as the plan was to get as close as possible undetected and use the surprise to get an beach head and hopefully fully take the harbor before the Lannister forces can even gather to try a counter attack.

With the port taken the rest of the ships can unload their reaver much more easily and safer into the city.

They managed to get enough paint in such short notice to get 200 warships painted, a number of the admirals and lords were given leave to choose some ships to be colorized, their crews to go with them as the vanguard in the sneak attack.

Even if a greenhorn being a Greyjoy meant he was amongst these admirals and had till the beginning of the next day to submit the ships he was taken, since he had no power base he guessed no one thought it was needed to express his limit of ships.

Soon after being dismissed after being told of the plan Theon walked into the castle yard where most of the gathered captains were and, as the plan wasn't a secret, hollered

"The lords and admirals in that room will have a limited number from 200 captains to chose, if any want to guarantee your place in the vanguard come with me. Being willing to follow my orders on the pain of death, come meet me by at the Drunken Squid later tonight!" After shouting so at the crowd he left to try another angle.

He knew he wouldn't get many if any from that, the captains waiting on Pyke were the private friends or guards to the lords and admirals called into the room and those of the Iron Fleet, who he would expect to be the majority of the 200 ships.

But still, allowing so many lords and admirals to choose meant some of the captains of the Iron Fleet would stay behind. He could only hope there to be one of those who will stay behind willing to take his offer and followed him even though he didn't prove himself yet. Ironborn pride was a persistent thing.

After that he went to Fishers Keep, castle of the Codds a minor noble family in Pyke created from a former thrall that proved his worth to an Greyjoy Lord some eight or so hundred years ago. Still Lord Codd lead a raiding fleet of eight longships and two converted merchant vessels and was known to be desperate to grow his family prestige. And betting on a returned Greyjoy prince was a good way to do so.

Explaining the situation to the lord was incredibly easy, the ambitious man fell at his words and quickly sent his two merchant ships and one of his longships with him. On the condition his son, Vaen Codd would lead the longship under Theon, the boy, two years younger than Theon but seemed strong and able enough so it was an easy enough condition to fill. The Codds have been almost sycophants for the Greyjoys for as long as they've been an House, good to know somethings never changed.

Though easy the negotiation had taken most of what he had left of the day and there was no more time to look for more allies, so he returned to the village by Pyke, going to its most well known bar to hopefully meet with some Iron Fleet captain interested in his proposal.

He was in luck as two men waited for him in front of the bar, too well armed and armored to be patrons or just simple raiders. They would present themselves as Dan Pyke and Talgon Flatfoot, captains of the Ocean's Spear and the Red Wave from the Iron Fleet.

Dan apparently just cared more about guaranteeing a place in the vanguard than some imaginary wound to his pride and Talgon was sure he wouldn't be chosen as he had apparently retreated mid raiding recently, his uncle Victarion ripping the man's tongue out as punishment He was only still in his post because everyone was too busy with the war to replace him and he somehow managed to, if barely, keep his crew from mutiny.

Theon did not care, sure it might piss off one or two people but it gave him two ships with ballistas and Iron Fleet worthy crews.

There was some fight when he showed up the next day in front of his father with five ships more than expected the next morning, claiming no one gave him a limit on how many ships he could bring. He was worried his father might've prohibited and make his efforts for nothing but he could swear the man was almost proud of him as he took the five places from a lord and a admiral and gave it to him without fight or fuss.

Lord Blacktyde and Lorren Redhand kind of hated him now but he got what he wanted.

And now here he was, getting ready to set sail on his dark blue Iron Fleet longship, having taken the Red Wave from Talgon. The mute had sworn allegiance and was already disgraced so almost none of the crew had a complaint, it was already expected he would lose his post sooner or later after the misguided retreat, the ones that had something to say he guessed were the few that drew swords with the captain when the same decided that already disgraced he rather fight than lose his post.

He was a competent fighter but Theon was better trained, more skilled and younger, the fight lasted but a few minutes before the mute was disarmed, literally. The few men that raised swords with him were dealt with by the majority of the crew that made the smarter choice of not try killing an Greyjoy prince amidst the Iron Fleet at the foot of Pyke and of going with the prince than the unremarkable and disgraced captain.

He drowned the armless man and the six survivors of the twelve men that fought with him. That was another thing that was already expected of an grown Greyjoy, he should have drowned at least one person, an infidel or mutineer preferably. Drowning was both a honorable way to kill a quarreling fellow ironborn and a ritualistic way of killing infidels or mutineers.

He knew he still needed to prove himself to both his family and now to his crew, so he held each of the seven men's heads under the water until they stopped fighting. Trying to forget the visage and the voice underwater that he swore he could hear again with each drowning.

After the old reaver was dead he gave the bodies an commoner ironman burial with the bodies being tied with rocks and thrown at sea.

Theon got on said ship, the preparations on it and the other ships in his small fleet were almost done as the whole armada readied to set sail towards Lannisport.

As they finished the preparations to set sail Balon, from his flagship the huge longship that was the Iron Victory, sent a raven destined to Riverrun to warn their temporary ally of their movement. Sent the moment the fleet was on the move, so it would be too late to do anything even if greenland spies managed to get a hold of it.

 ****The Young Wolf****

 **Nine days later**

Robb Stark sat in his tent, that was currently deep in the Westerlands, his campaign to de-fang the lion was going well, his army moved almost unopposed through the West. Having defeated a forming Lannister host at Oxford he led the army to take Ashmark, home of the prestigious House Marbrand.

After taking it the mostly ungarrisoned castle he left a small force to protect and fortify it, but was expecting reinforcements from the Riverlands soon to better garrison the keep and use it as his base and fort in the Westerlands for however long he needs one. Also to close of Marbrand Valley, a fertile land covered by mountains with its main entrance and exit covered by Ashmark, it was mostly untouched by the war so it could still field a reasonable army.

His army was divided in four after taking Ashmark, his more martial prominent lords such as Greatjon Umber, Maege Mormont and the Blackfish lead the other hosts besides his own into sieging Crakehall, Sarsfield and the Golden Tooth respectively. Crakehall and Sarsfield he expected would be taken soon, both lordships had sent most of it levies with Tywin's first host.

The Golden Tooth was being besieged mostly to keep the unharmed Lefford army controlled and the best passage to the Riverlands open. He saw first hand what lack of patience could cost during a long siege when he managed to capture Jaime because the Lannister couldn't sit still. **(1)**

While Crakehall was a great castle by what intelligence was gathered Lord Roland Crakehall, who died in the battle of Oxcross, had marched with not only his levies but counting with Tywin's victory had taken most of his keep's garrison, leaving his land almost unprotected.

And Sarsfield, while maintaining most of its garrison was a far weaker castle, the siege was mostly to keep said garrison and nobles there while Crakehall broke, after which Greatjon was to sack the castle and abandon it to help Maege take Sarsfield.

Right now his army was at a mostly abandoned village at the edge of the lordship of the Tendring, close to his aim as he made his way south, towards the Fang Tower, seat of House Clegane and home of Gregor Clegane.

He intended to pay the man back for what he did against his mother's home and now his own kingdom, the giant may be untouchable for the moment as he sat with Tywin's main army in Kingslanding, still leading random raiding parties into the Riverlands and Stormlands. But while he maybe be safe in the capital for now, his home and lands were at an arms reach.

He sat alone at his tent, reading the various letters and documents scattered across his desk while gathering his thoughts after the last meeting with what was left of his war council before the march, they would move at a moderate pace through the day and afternoon and reach Fang Tower before night had truly fallen, and he wanted everything ready for the coming siege.

"Your Highness" A call came from the door, making him lift his head the letter he was reading, a report on what little they could find out about the recent failed attempt by Stannis to take the throne in what the southerners took to calling the Battle of Blackwater. He still needed to remind himself that _his Highness_ was actually him.

The call came from on of the guards assigned to his tent today, Ernon or Arnon if he wasn't mistaken. Behind him what seemed to be a messenger out of breath surrounded by two others of his guards.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The messenger came from Riverrun, he brings a letter from Pyke" Ernon said took the letter from the messenger and brought it to him.

Robb tried to school his expression as he quickly takes and reads the letter, anxious to know from Theon and if he could expect an alliance from the Iron Islands. He desperately needed another kingdom at rebellion.

The letter might've been the shortest correspondence between two noble Houses Robb had ever seen.

" _I accept your proposal for alliance. Keep away from the Westerland's coast, it will belong to the Ironborn._

 _-Iron King Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Islands and the Sunset Sea, Lord Reaper of Pyke."_

It was certainly not friendly or the cooperation he hoped, but it was aid and he would definitely take it. With three Kingdoms in open rebellion instead of two and an actual navy his chances only grew, he actually believed he might win now.

He was happy to know his friend managed to convince his father, he supposed next time he and Theon met they would've war stories the other didn't know for a change. He could only hope his friend managed to find the belonging he was looking for, Robb wasn't foolish or oblivious, he saw the envious looks Theon would send him and his brothers and knew that while he came to care for the Stark family his friend just wasn't a Northerner, both in blood and heart. And though Robb didn't like what he heard about the ironborn he hoped his friend found his own happiness in the violent culture.

The youngest Greyjoy had been a constant for him since youth and had been by his side since he decided to call the banners back in Winterfell, now the two would wage different wars with different people as a King and prince their separate kingdoms. They really weren't kids anymore he supposed.

Not so long ago his biggest concern was if would be a good Lord Paramount in the distant future when his father died and about any possible engagement.

"Stay here I will need a message delivered." he said to the guards and messenger still in the tent after taking a minute to think about what to do about the letter. He proceeded to write a letter of his own to Greatjon, Crakehall was a keep close to the coast and controlled a coastal lordship, he would leave it for the ironborn then. Greatjon would be more useful speeding the taking of Sarsfield anyway.

After finishing the letters and sending the messenger with a guard with orders to take a group of fifteen riders and ride fast to Crakehall and take the orders to Lord Umber Robb took a minute to breath, leaning against the table and closing his eyes.

He didn't know what would come of sending his friend as an envoy to his father, his mother was certainly against it and from the stories his father used to tell him trusting the ironborn always ended badly, and Balon was as ironborn as it gets.

He was very thankful it seemed to have worked out, he didn't want his friend to have to chose between the Starks and his family, and even with the series of victories Robb feared for the war.

With winter coming, a King Beyond the Wall leading the wildlings and a war ravished Riverland he couldn't fight a long war, all that was keeping his faith in this was his unstopping streak of victories. He needed to keep it going in order to finish this war before winter, his father was always saying how after such a long summer an as long and likely very harsh winter was to come.

He also didn't know how to explain but he felt it in his bones, a foreboding feeling that he knew, just _knew_ that meant winter was coming. And he needed to be ready.

His minute taken he got up, took a deep breath and got out of his tent, giving orders to the constantly nearby guards to spread the word through camp to ready for march. He needed to get to his horse so he could supervise the work and help with the preparations.

He reached the horse soon enough, taking the reins from Olivar Frey, another price taken by Late Lord Frey, though taking old Walder's grandson as a squire had proved to be a blessing. The boy was dedicated and quick on his head and feet, he can only hope his bride is such a pleasant surprise. Thinking about said bride almost makes him wish for the war to go on, just so he has an excuse to avoid going back to the Twins.

He barks some common packing and preparing orders he has become so accustomed these last few months of constant marching, screaming orders to an army can apparently become routine.

"Sir! The forward group lead by Ser Marq Piper was ambushed by Lannister forces, Ser Piper was captured and the ambusher probably sent word our army was approaching!" An panicked injured soldier ran at him yelling on top of his lungs before falling face first to the ground.

"What are you waiting for?! Someone help this man and send more raiding and scout parties to see what Clegane's forces will do! We won't be caught by surprise." So much for it being routine. He turned his horse towards the direction of the keep, no longer having the element of surprise he would need to march at a quicker pace, hoping to catch its scouts, foragers still scattered and the keep unprepared for a full siege. He would need speed to compensate for the surprise.

It didn't take long for Robb's army to be ready and marching, it was just before dusk when they arrived at the castle.

Fang Tower was a small keep, a single thick tower surrounded by a small circular wall of wood and stone, it stood upon a hill at the foot of one of the Westerlands many mountains with said mountain the back of the castle serving and serving as one third of the southern wall.

They had arrived at good time if the scouting parties that they broke on their way and the seemingly lack of men in guarding the keep was anything to go by.

Fang Tower small size and defensive value meant that the ladders the army was carrying with it and the four medium catapults they've been carrying the parts since the taking of Oxcross's keep after the Battle of Camps would be enough to breach its defenses.

His army was just as fast in setting camp as it was at arriving at it, before night truly fell the basics of the camp was settled as the army fortified its position to rest for the night and prepare for tomorrow's battle. He managed to catch Fang Tower mostly unmanned as Lord Clegane cousin and steward had sent a good part of its garrison to harass and raid his army and supplies ever since they entered the Clegane's county.

It failed, in large part thanks to Jon Blackmyre, the young man from a minor house of the neck had proven himself more capable than most at leading a group of 30 men in hunting down raiding parties. There were various such small group but his was by far the most successful.

Already a weaker keep for having no great defenses and being left to disrepair by the uninterested Gregor and now mostly unmanned Clegane's castle was as easy a target there ever was for his army. They would rest through the night and tomorrow at afternoon they would storm it and take it, hopefully in three days at maximum.

As the camp was settled and on its way to being fortified Robb left his horse after thirteen hours almost non stop above it. His orders for the encampment were already given, now it was a matter of waiting and he was going to rest before the battle. He got into his tent and fell asleep the moment his back touched the cot.

As was becoming custom for him he was woken by the sound of feet moving outside his tent as the army prepared for the day, a day which included the the storming of one more Westerlander castle. It was early but spirits seemed high if going just from the sounds he could hear outside from his place in bed.

He got up, high spirits or no an army needed its leader, after the morning ritual of washing his face and getting dressed he left the tent to oversee the final preparations before the attack.

Robb moved through his camp with his guard flanking him, he saw his soldiers finishing their own preparations checking their equipement or getting that last drink in before battle. He spent some time walking amongst the circles of soldier that formed in the camp, meeting and talking with his soldiers doing so before battle or whenever you can will make you a better commander and lord, his father believed so and like in most things he agreed with man.

The four catapults had already finished being assembled and sat at the front of the camp, aimed at the Westerlander keep and guarded by a group of soldiers assigned to the siege engines.

It was almost the marked time, still early in the day when the soldiers previously scattered around camp started forming lines in front of their camps. Various groups of soldiers of differing numbers flocked to form organized lines and boxes on the space between the siege camps and the keep.

Walking quickly he soon the front of camp, the single tower from Fang Tower before him, he once again took the reins of his horse from Olivar and once a top of it proceeded to shout orders at the attack group with him.

He could faintly hear his lords and commanders shouting their own orders and versions of encouragement. Everyone had already been informed of the battle plan the day before the march and all preparations were done, we had the number advantage by far for once and it's looking to be a easy battle, but that is arrogance and it leads to failure. Every battle should be treated with the same diligence and attention as in any his whole war could be turned upside down.

He rode through the ranks of the formations closest to him, checking if everything was in place and reminding his soldiers of their king's presence.

He looked to the skies, the sun's position told him it was finally time. Turning his horse back he rode again to the front of the camp, in front of the the two largest formations, two squares of six thousand warriors each.

The horn blower was given his signal, and as the first deep baritone from the overly large horn sounded through the vale before being replaced by an sharp _thump_ as the catapults swung and launched two 200kg rocks over the rather short distance.

The rocks hit their marks, one hitting it alone while two hit walls close to the gate house to and the last one managing to hit the top of the Clegane's gate house. Robb didn't need to turn as he could hear the catapults being readied again, and true enough four other large rocks flew through the air into the keeps walls.

A piece of the Wall collapsed after three and half hours of punishment, the horn sounded again in two short burst, being answered by one long burst from a similar horn to the left where the group closest to the breach, four thousand men lead by Smalljon Umber, sprung to it.

The catapults were turned away from the breach to focus on punishing the gate house. Which having already being targeted since the beginning could only take another two hour of punishment before it collapsed. After which the horn sounded once again.

This time being repeated by the horn blowers of every battle groups available the large squares of soldiers roared and moved forwards almost as one. The other groups following their lead, various smaller groups moved in with ladders, deploying them amongst the walls, especially close to the breaches as the Northern army climbed the walls, making the few Clegane's men on them too busy to attack the soldiers passing through the breach.

This freed Smalljon's army, having almost crushed the attempt at a line the Westerlanders formed at the breach it was only the attacks from the walls by the keep's few archers that were slowing him and taking their toll on the Umber's army.

Robb was at the middle if towards the back of his army as his vanguard hit the Westerland line, the line held against his vanguard but as his army was slowly moving forward he could see it wouldn't hold it for long. The northern archers who were previously divided into three groups occupied the archers on the walls, the northern longbows and experienced hunter being the best archers in Westeros freed Smalljon's army.

Now that the attacks from above were no longer a problem said army quickly finished breaking the hastily made and thus weak line and moved into the keep. Turning to the other, bigger breach where most the remaining garrison was trying to maintain an line against the far bigger Northern army.

With Smalljon's charge into the line's back the battle was decided, with Arton Clegane, the castle Steward and acting ruler while Gregor was away, dead somewhere amidst battle and the garrison broken the only remaining resistance was the few soldier that holed up in the keep's single tower.

It fortunately was as easy an battle as predicted and Robb barely saw combat besides the few minutes between the line breaking and Northern men pouring into the castle against the Clegane's men and the westerlanders surrender. Killing one foot soldier while upon his horse's back in these few minutes.

Unfortunately for them Fang Tower was not a keep he planned taking, given the order his men had started making camp in and around the keep's walls, most of the other men were given leave to prepare their tents besides those manning the barricade at the keep's door.

The catapults were brought into said walls through the breaches they created, and its crew prepared them for another shot, and from very close four200kg hit the Tower making it tremble. And the crew readied to shoot again.

The men given leave prepare the camp seemed more interested in watching the tower go down as everyone seemed to stop what they were doing to watch it, hooting every time a new rock hit it.

It didn't take long, the projectiles at a close distance and the tower not being that strong in the first place. After two hours attacking it Clegane's Keep made a large noise as it collapsed in half taking everyone in with it, from soldier to servant to prisoner.

Robb took one long look at the rubble before turning away.

There was no need for long speeches after every minor battle, he thought to himself as his horse trotted through the hastily set camp to the largest tent in the camp at he moment and the first set after the battle, the medical tent.

And he didn't say such thing lightly but it was an minor battle, the castle wasn't of value besides its symbolism and they suffered just twenty eight losses, twenty eight men for a castle. While he mourned those men after all the major battles he participated those losses gave him hope that this war to an end. If nothing else that he may be able to return most of his army to the Riverlands soon enough.

The only Houses with true armies left to bear in the Westerlands were Kenning, Farman, Brax, Lydden and Serret. And of course the armies at the Lannister controlled Lannisport and Casterly Rock.

Of theses Houses, Kenning of Kayce and Farman of Fair Isles were coastal, so were Lannisport and Casterly Rock so that was all an ironborn problem now.

As soon as the on-going sieges were done he could deal with Brax, Lydden and Serret. As far as they know both Houses's armies haven't left their castle since the beginning of the war.

Reaching the tent he quickly got down from his horse, giving the reins to a soldier who was guarding the tent and walking inside it. He was greeted with the sounds of moans and yells of pain as patients were treated along rows of cots in the tent.

It was an habit he picked during his campaign, to help with the wounded after the war. They were injured fighting for his cause so he felt he had to do whatever he could, his interest did better the quality of his army's medical aid. There were no cots in the tent before, nor so many helpers.

"Argh!" A particularly loud scream drew his eyes towards a beautiful young woman, with dark brown hair and eyes slowly removing a spear from a restrained soldier.

That was also another reason for his new interest in medicine, when he talked with her he could forget about the war and his kingship for a while. Maybe not forget, but he could feel at easy and content, not as if the world rests on his shoulder. And he could really use some of that right now.

He moved to the cot with the restrained soldier to see how he could help.

 ****Note:** I wrote the chapter in a rush so I would appreciate pointing out grammar and sentencing errors through it. I would appreciate any review really so I can better know my viewers opinions. Next chapter will be the invasion of Lannisport.


End file.
